The Unmarked On this barren world, torn from mercies side, my feet find footing. Scorching sand is hurled, through the wind along with pride, the sun is unforgiving. My black mask hiding face, tucked under a cowl of apathy. With every footstep unveiling lost grace, I seek purgatory. On the sandy Mediterranean where I stumble, there is no place to hide, no place to crumble. Passing through the last of what is human, sanity is a lonely stranger. A rabid laugh from a dying woman, these ears have heard nothing better. As if touched by a leper’s hand, this world only has death to sing. Their remedies all pretend, while pretenses build the gallows that swing. My nostalgic eyes see only future, the thought of the past my only comforter. In the desert night, the stars are just shy of shining for us. Away from the cities false light, I lay myself upon the dust. In the green kingdom they dance with demons, while I the unmarked, choose deadly wisdom. “Destruction waits in the coming seasons,” I last remarked, to the ones whose names are fated to the chasm. A traveler through a world of death, my eyes close to shun this dark aftermath. My dreams of a cold winter, melted away in the heat of the present. All of mans greatest Scrapers, are rotting with everything decent. This is the outgrowth of our rejection, a deserted planet of spite. Soon He shall come in Revelation, and bring with him a sword of fate. My haggard heart seeks to be carried no more upon gaunt legs, lying here about to die, in nothing more than a mask and rags, yet richer am I.